For months I've been counting down the minutes. Sitting in a meeting I penned this poem on my phone:

I would like for the whole beautiful goddess of Europe to open her beautiful legs to me, and beckon to me with honey and beer, a briney oyster of aphrodite, tributaries flowing into the great North sea and mixing and wirring together in a great integration.Wild wolves of Ireland, decapitated night travelers, wars fought over german essens deep dark stout. Autobahns like fast flowing blood, nimble extremities plow golden wheat lovemaking at night with the farmers daughter.

Day 1On the morning of May 15 2017 I awakened to dreams of surfing through the clouds on a boogie board. Soon I was at the airport going through security, which could not have been more pleasant, the security seemed to know that I was bound for freedom. I passed abought an hour and 45 minutes in an airport pub with a giant burger and a glass of beer. The burger was so big I had to rotate the plate to see where I bit, a good burger to leave the country on. I tipped the waitress 30% and headed for the gate. After changing planes in Dulles where there happened to be a smoking lounge, Washington shot me like an ICBM toward Amsterdam. The air plane ride was great, they fed us like a cruise liner, including gourmet ice cream, and didn’t charge me for the several hard drinks I had bought, celebrating with the kid next to me who was headed for Istanbul. There were so many good movies I didn’t sleep a wink. I would definitely fly United again. The Dutch passport control was not all that pleasant, but I got in. I happily noticed that there were fake flies in the urinals in Schipol, and I got on the plane to sloterdijk. My room there was great, very comfortable, and a beautiful breakfast every morning. Iwent right into the city and boarded a hop on hop off bus. I went to the Rijksmuseum which had an impressive collection ( last time I was there it was closed.) I took the hop on hop off boat to Leidseplein and located the Pipe museum. Walking to the pipe museum I smelled marijuana coming from one of the less reputable coffeeshops. It smelled worse than horse manure, and I gagged at the awful smell. I took a great tour of the pipe museum, and then I started to worry about my hygiene so I went back to my hotel and showered and then went back into the city. I went to the RLD and wandered around, half to wander and half to find our lord in the attic. There were lots of window girls, and I actually liked the little fashion boutiques peppering the window areas. Our lord in the attic was a great museum. I bought some delft tiles, and was struck for the first time how inexpensive Dutch folk art is. I went into the Oude Kerk, it was quite boring, there were artists covering the floor with gold fabric. Next I walked to the Spui, constantly stopping to ask directions. At one stop this scrawny little couple, probably Turkish, a petitle blonde with big tits who I would never touch tried to solicit me with a freebie. I said no and she yelled at me “Kuff You! Kuff You!” it was hilarious. I ended up at the Gollem. I always figured that the Gollem was a cold dungeon with a list of 2000 beers and shitty service, but it turned out to be an amiable guy with four beers on tap and a granola set up. I tossed back a phenomenal German wheat beer and hung out with the owner, then walked through Dam square and went back to the hotel in Sloterdijk.

Day 2Today was so amazing I don’t know if I can remember it all. I woke up late, about 11:00 and was on the train to central a little later. I rented a bike and headed toward museumplein. I stopped in Rembrandtsplein and had a busker take a picture of me with the nights watch statue. I found my way to Albert Cuypsmarket. I asked at the first table for a stroop wafel, which I had never tried in Amsterdam, but when I bit into It it was like a bowl of cinnamon cereal shat itself. I now realize that they had probably served me a sugar wafel. I was dying for a glass of milk, which was unavailable. Instead I got a herring and ate it traditional style in three bites. It was very nice, left a oily flavor in my mouth. I found my way back to the Rijksmuseum, and everybody was super nice despite the stupidity of my questions. The Van Gogh museum presented a little bit of a problem. The woman at the door said I needed to get my ticket (I have museumkartt) in the back of the building. I was carrying a heavy courier bag. I found an entrance behind the building. It took me deep into the ground and I walked and walked until I came up at the Concert Gezebow. I lugged my bag to museum help building because I thought she said I could get my ticket there. When the manager told me I was out of luck I told him my story, and he listened sympathetically. After walking about a mile I finally got in. They searched my bag which was heavy with cheese I got at the market. I managed to have a good time anyway and went back to my bike. I had picked up several post cards and 15 stamps at the Van Gogh Museum. En route to central I decided to bike around the Jordaan and look for an eet huis with authentic dutch food. The cobblestones were reall killers and I’m sure I pinched a nerve. I made my first biking snafu when I mistook a bike bell for an incoming text. I stopped at the Noon, where the guys showed me to park my bike ( like I didn’t already know how.) It smelled nice, unlike the filthy grass smell at the places around the pipe museum yesterday. I looked at the gear but just wanted a coffee, which I was denied, and left. After biking around the prinsengracht, I finally found an eetcafe. The waitress brought me beer and I ordered a stampott, which was quite good, with lots of Heineken. I biked on, a store owner served me an apelsap from a store door so I didn’t have to lock up my bike. Biking up the Prinsengracht I decided to visit my old stomping grounds on Harlemmerstraat. I was thinking of breaking my clean streak and buying some imported hash at Barneys, so I locked up my bike and went in. They had my Malana Cream all weighed up and I realized I couldn’t do it. The budtender understood completely, so I went back to my bike, and I had lost my key! I emptied my pockets and bags, throwing out the remaining sugar wafel. I told the guy at the door of Barneys that I had lost my key, and he helped me look. I was embarrassed to go back in and the door guy asked the budtender, he didn’t know anything about it. So I decided to leave it overnight and get the key in the morning. I started walking and I was one block out, when I heard a voice in my head say “You should really go back.” So I started walking back, and there was the door guy with my key. They had found it! The workers at Barneys were the most laid back happy stoners I’d seen in Amsterdam. So I guess it’s really true “Barney’s doesn’t shake their buds.” I walked through the RLD toward Jodenburt, but found only Bluebird and didn’t go in. My zippo lighter had broken as soon as I got to Amsterdam, it’s funny like that, whenever I leave home it breaks, and the disposable lighter had died. I got a light from someone in Jodenburt, and extinguished the but and put it back in my case. I stopped at a little square and tried to relight the butt, but my lighter was dead, so I dragged on the cigarette and, miracle of miracles, it had been smoldering, and I had a puff. I took the train home and slept well.

Day 3- DelftOn the train to DelftA gray green landscapeIt disappears behind me.The purr of the locomotiveIs encapsulated in a cat, a dog, and hogsIf only you could seeIf only I could tell youIf only you would listen.

I woke up at the crack of Dawn, ate a lovely hotel breakfast, and caught the train to Delft. I noticed at the subway that in Amsterdam the non smokers sit inside of a glass enclosed area while the smokers have the run of the place. I like this way of doing it and will try to propogate it in the US. When I got to Delft I ran smack into a great little enclave of antique stands. From as long as I can remember my mom has cherished a couple of Drostes Cacao tins she got In Amsterdam, so when I saw one there I immediately asked how much. It was only five euros and I bought it without a second thought. It really does strike me as amazing how cheap folk art and antiques are in Holland. I took a Rick steves guided walking tour of delft, taking special interest in the taxation authority. Then I took the train home and layed down for a while and took a shower. I went back to Central and took a little spill on my bike on the way to return it and got a few bruises. Fortunately for my tough denim outfit I didn’t get a scrape. I returned it in time not to pay for an extra day. This was my last day in Amsterdam and I went to check out the Jewish cultural area. I put on a kitschy orange hat that a clothing store back home had been giving away. I picked up 11 more post cards to fill out that night, I feel that there’s something remarkably Gezellig about post cards from Amsterdam. The Jewish historical museum was pretty boring, the Portuguese synagogue was a little more interesting, and the holocaust museum was quite moving. The Resistance museum didn’t have and English audio guides, and I didn’t really get much out of it, unfortunately. After that I made an executive decision to go back to my hotel in Sloterdijk. But a girl at the station when I went to to confirm my early morning train encouraged me to have a good time on my last night. So after mailing out a stack of post cards I spent one more evening in the city finding New York Pizza, two slices of pizza and a drink for 8 euros, great deal! I wandered the casino hoping for slutty cocktail waitresses, there were none. I bought a slice of apple pie in a bakery and went back to my hotel.

Cali Guy wrote:So glad the Goddess Europa opened wide her unshaven legs and welcomed you into that gnarled hippy thatch that is Christiania However you're a few hundred years late for the wild Irish wolves.

No, the old snake rustler didn't bother with them. If anything, the myths say he turned a group of unbelievers into werewolves for howling derisively at him when he attempted to preach at them (yet another reason to give missionaries short shrift). The poor wolves were hunted to extinction about 300 years ago as farmland encroached on the previously wild countryside, and landowners got the hump with the wolves predating on livestock.